


A Little Self-Indulgence

by corviid



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Bottom Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Creampie, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Power Dynamics, Sub Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22599511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corviid/pseuds/corviid
Summary: There's only one set of hands that Alastor craves — and when their little game draws to its inevitable end, he's going to get them.
Relationships: Alastor/Alastor's Shadow (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 201





	A Little Self-Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written smut in a very very long time but hopefully this lives up to expectations. I've been super inspired by some of the Alastor/Alastor's shadow fanart out there!
> 
> Enjoy! ♥  
> cor.

Night's inevitable cloak had fallen softly over the shoulders of the Happy Hotel, bringing with it a familiar midnight chill. Though temperatures remained relatively arid during the day, Hell's brutal nighttime concoction was far less predictable — far less _comfortable_ overall. Inside the hotel, the hallways lay dormant, the thick evening darkness dispelled only by slivers of lamplight leaking from beneath a few particular closed doors. Outside, the brisk nighttime air lapped hungrily at the building's exterior, desperate for refuge.

  
But there would be no impromptu nighttime excursions — no, despite his fondness for such things, Alastor was much too busy. He ran one gloved finger over the edge of the stack of papers cradled in the crook of his elbow, appreciating the soft shuffling sound. Bureaucratic formalities, inventory reports, new patron files... Urgency varied, of course, but Alastor prided himself on his timeliness.

  
He hummed a soft tune as he exited Charlie's office, mindful to leave the room as pristine as it had been upon his arrival. Despite Vaggie's protests, Charlie had been quick to entrust him with a master key — and though he _could_ easily abuse such power, it was within his interests to maintain that trust.

Not that the key particularly mattered; he could easily manifest himself wherever he desired to be, with only few exceptions within the hotel. Nevertheless, Alastor took great care in returning it to his interior jacket pocket as he maneuvered the empty hallways towards the elevator. The entire lower floor slept in darkness, the corridor lit only by the Radio Demon's glowing gaze: a haunting red that all but dripped from the intricacies of the wallpaper. And moving slowly through the blackened shadows, _something_ trailed just steps behind him.

  
The elevator breathed a soft _ding_ as Alastor emerged at the second floor. He shifted the paperwork from arm to arm, his ever-present smile growing a fraction as he stepped free of the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye, _something_ slid from wall to wall, its movements a sharp contrast to his own pace.

  
Alastor hummed a languid tune as he unlocked the door to his suite, the notes slow and unhurried on his lips. He spared not a single moment in removing his overjacket, his fingers moving to unbutton the high neck of his shirt with a practiced elegance. Alastor's smile was all teeth, his eyes half-lidded with a quiet hunger as he sunk comfortably into his desk chair.

  
He shuffled the papers idly in his hands, a knowing smile curling his lips as _something_ climbed the back of his chair. Its presence was heavy and palpable as its jagged fingers curled around Alastor's shoulders possessively, its eyes glowing like phantom cinders against the blackness.

  
His shadow.

  
"Good evening, my love." His words were soft and easy — coded with the slightest hint of something more intimate. Alastor's smile curled larger, his gaze narrowing a fraction as he lazily reached a hand to cradle the thing's chin. "What brings you?"

  
It wasn't as though he didn't already know the answer. No, Alastor could tell when he was being followed — but only his shadow could actively _hunt him._ It was difficult to say what exactly spurned the challenge, but he was no stranger to its unspoken ruleset. And though the little chase was nothing more than a game of cat and mouse, of wolf and deer, the consequences were a little different.

  
It leaned into his touch affectionately, a soft static undulating forth from somewhere deep inside its shadowed form. Alastor breathed a contented sigh as he allowed himself to focus on the sound. It was comforting, as strange as the revelation was, even as those phantom hands began to roam his body.

  
_"Really,_ now, you _are no_ t particularly subtle." Alastor flashed his teeth in amusement, and his shadow returned the gesture tenfold, its own expression somehow even more sinister than his own. "I've known you were there since the first floor, darling."

  
It offered nothing more than a voiceless laugh. No, discovered or not, it had already captured its prey — and there was _very little_ that could deter it now.

  
Alastor waved his hand in a half-hearted shooing motion, gesturing towards his stack of paperwork. He did his best to put on a stern facade, though his brazen grin betrayed him. "Have you no regard for the work I've promised Charlie that I would finish? She'll be _ever so_ disappointed if it isn't on her desk by morning."

  
His shadow tilted its head, assessing his smile with a curious expression before deeming it utterly transparent — _and unimportant._ It raked its hands along Alastor's sides pointedly, angling its clawed fingertips to cleanly slice the seams of his shirt. And then its hands were on his bare flesh, hungry and wanting and unwilling to compromise.

  
Alastor's smile faltered for only a second as his breath hitched. He sighed, rolling his shoulders back as he relaxed beneath the touch. There was something about those hands that put him at ease; despite his usual disinterest in intimacy, _those hands_ were virtually irresistible. Familiar, yet uncontrolled in their movements. Hungry, but satiated by touch. No, he knew he couldn't resist his shadow's touch — not even if he wanted to.

 _Not that he wanted to._ The paperwork would have to wait.

"Mm..." He bit his lip, reveling in the harsh sting it brought. Shadowed hands moved in two separate directions across his body, one finding a nipple as the other dipped into the top of his pants. Despite its claws, the touch was somewhat gentle: it rolled the sensitive bud between its fingers with surprising tenderness, earning a shaky sigh from its host. Alastor allowed his eyes to flicker shut, his breath tangling in his throat as the hand inside his pants closed around him.

  
The touch was warm, despite logic suggesting otherwise. Each stroke sent a deeper heat through his body, fanning the flame that burned in the pit of his stomach to a greater high. Alastor pressed his hips forward — tentatively, but forward nonetheless — and his shadow was more than happy to oblige his eagerness. Static dripped forth from its mouth as it pressed sharp, teeth-heavy kisses along the exposed length of Alastor's neck, its hand quickening and tightening with each expert stroke. The warmth was building, the fingers at his nipple tugging and twisting in time with Alastor's own bucking hips. He could feel his thighs shaking, his breath coming in short, unsteady gasps as the warmth at his core burned deeper.

  
And then it steadied, the hands leaving him completely.

  
Alastor furrowed his brow, his nose wrinkling in clear annoyance as he eyed his tented trousers with an ounce of shame. He breathed a steadying sigh as he rose, hands finding his hips as he came face to face with himself again. It narrowed its hungry eyes, smirk cracking its face nearly in two as it extended one arm towards the bed. The gesture was nothing if not polite — but it _was_ non-negotiable.

  
"Well..." Alastor flashed a toothy grin as he sauntered to sit at the edge of the bed, a flick of his wrist spurning the old radio to life. Its tune was more than enough to fill the dead air — and given the predicament, that was invaliable insurance. He had certain appearances to keep up, after all; it wouldn't do to have certain individuals asking too many questions tomorrow. "Alright, my love. I _concede."_

  
A snap of his fingers removed the rest of his clothes, but did nothing to disturb his self-satisfied grin. No, even as his naked body was forced unceremoniously face-down into the bedsheets, his smirk remained intact. The hands that roamed his body were completely devoid of any restraint. They moved with voracious intent, armed with the intimate knowledge of Alastor's every weak spot. His sides, the curve of his hips, the small of his back: all were intimate targets that his shadow was _more than happy_ to explore.

  
And its focus quickly zeroed in on Alastor's _most_ intimate weak spot.

  
Alastor jolted as two hands took rough fistfuls of his bottom and _squeezed,_ claw tips digging deliciously into his flesh. He couldn't stop the strangled groan that left his lips, nor the way his back arched against the feeling as those same hands spread him open, completely exposing him. His body was hot — burning with a newly-awakened need that _absolutely had_ to be satiated.

  
Two fingers pressed against his lips, and he obliged easily, minding his teeth as he took them into his mouth. His cock throbbed between his legs as he bobbed his head, his tongue sliding lazily along the length of the digits as another quiet moan escaped him. It was... _Humiliating,_ in a sense — especially when those newly-slickened fingers exited his mouth in favor of entering him elsewhere.

  
Alastor buried his face back into the bedsheets, his cheeks absolutely alight as the first finger pressed inside him. He leaned his hips back into the sensation, drawing a sharp breath as a second finger stretched him open, bottoming out to the knuckle in a matter of moments. It was beyond intense — it was _everything_ and he _wanted more_ of it.

  
His shadow, meanwhile, could hardly contain its appetite any longer. It withdrew its lengthy fingers in one slow, fluid motion, replacing them instead with its drooling cock. Alastor let out a strangled moan, his body tensing and trembling as it pressed inside, its pace _just slow enough_ for him to feel every inch.

  
It gave him a moment, its grin satisfied to a contented smile as it tilted its head to drink in Alastor's sweet sounds, before settling into a violent pace. Below it, the Radio Demon was positively shaking, wracked by tremors that traveled the length of his body and back again. The sensation of being stripped of all control and absolutely stuffed was maddening — _and delicious._

  
The warmth in his belly blazed, tightening lower as each thrust brought him closer to the edge, his inexperience made obvious by his low stamina. And then his shadow shifted, its hungry hands realigning Alastor's hips so that its cock slammed ruthlessly against his prostate — _over and over and over again._ Alastor came with a strangled cry, his moans punctuated by static as each violent press rocked him deeper to his core. But it wasn't finished with him — its pace increased to a fervid speed, its clawed grip gouging superficial gashes along Alastor's arms as it held him down.

  
"Th- that's— ... quite... enough...!" His words dissolved into unintelligible moans, his body tensing and tightening as a second orgasm washed over him. Alastor's breath came in ragged gasps, his smile just barely clinging to his face as he was forced to ride out the intense pleasure. The heat was already building again, threatening to boil over at a moment's notice.

  
But it didn't take much more to finally satiate his shadow. The feverish pace slowed a measure, each thrust becoming more and more purposeful as it emptied its load inside him. It rocked its hips slower, savoring the release as Alastor tightened for a third and final time.

  
Slowly, gently, it eased free of him, its usually devious smirk replaced with something far more relaxed as it resumed its normal form. The shadow cocked its head, as though seeing Alastor's spent state for the first time.

  
"Mmhmm..." Alastor groaned as a gentle hand stroked his back, the simple touch echoing its fondness for him. His shadow snapped its fingers, willing the radio's volume a measure softer as it pulled the blanket to cover him before finally disappearing back into the darkness.


End file.
